glass houses
by Pear-Shaped
Summary: People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones but I'll keep tossing pebbles at your window. Or, Neru doesn't know what she wants, Len is clueless and Mikuo just can't catch a break. Short, mild Mikuo/Neru/Len


Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy. (Rushed ending is rushed) Failed attempts at comedy here.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid.

[people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones _but I'll keep tossing pebbles at your window]_

_[there had only ever been room for one male in her heart but while she's always guarded it against trespassers, maybe she can make an exception]_

She can't recall their first meeting that well before the whole coffee fiasco. All she remembers were his smiling eyes before her stray handbag had caused the waiter to trip and empty the contents of his tray all over them. Everything after that is a blur as well, save for the scalding pain and vague screaming that had rung from every direction.

She thinks maybe that encounter had ended with both of them in hospital with severe burns and she'd been speechless when he'd apologised to _her_. The only thing that stands out from that encounter are the marigolds he'd left on her table with his name and contact details underneath. Her brother always ask who this _Mikuo Hatsune_ is when he comes over and she always laughs and throws the crumpled scrap of paper into the bin.

_[she always fishes it out afterwards but that doesn't matter and Nero never asks her why it always reappears every other week anyway]_

The numbers taunt her whenever she walks past the fridge, the now rather scrappy piece of paper held together by a series of smiley face magnets that she swears Miku bought her.

Neru almost rings the number one day but then the doorbell rings and she aborts her one off moment of courage in favour of who might be behind the door. She doesn't regret it when she sees Len's smiling face, expression wrought with the emotions that she can't unleash on him for fear of scaring him away.

"Good morning Neru," he greets her, still wearing that sweet smile and she feels her heart leaping around within her ribcage.

"What are you doing here?" She demands, trying not to wince at the slight hurt that spreads across his face. She can't apologise though, can't let him get closer because he's already taking up too much room in her heart.

When she steps out of the way, he wriggles out of his coat and gratefully accepts refuge from the cold nipping at his heels. The door swings shut behind them and it occurs to her that her apartment is rather messy; magazines are strewn all over the table, the dishes are taunting her from their place in the sink and she hasn't vacuumed in weeks. Maybe he won't notice.

Len stuffs his gloves into his pockets, displaying their chilly pallor to her before heading towards the kitchen.

"I'll make coffee for us, if that's al-"

He breaks off abruptly, hesitantly lifting his foot to reveal a rather crumpled pair of underpants. _Oh God, _she groans mentally as his face gains an unnatural red hue. _He noticed._

_[he greets her with open arms and she greets him with hostility and upturned undies] _

"Thanks, I guess."

Miku straightens up, still managing to look radiant despite her dishevelled state, and flashes her a smile. "No problem Neru! I don't mind giving you a hand!"

Scanning the newly sparkling apartment reminds Neru why she doesn't talk to people like Miku, they're too kind. She's a saint and Neru is just one of the nameless masses coming to pay tribute to her gracious deeds. In secret of course, she still retains some sense of a reputation.

"Do you...do you want a coffee?" Neru stammers, feeling like she should but partially hoping that Miku will say no because, well, it's _Miku_. In her apartment. Washing her dishes.

Unfortunately, Miku agrees and insists on accompanying her into the kitchen to help out. Neru tries to pretend it isn't nice to have another girl to speak to. Or another _person_ to speak to, for that matter.

As they wait for the kettle, Miku observes the myriad of bills and notices all over the fridge. Her eyes seem to focus on one spot for a while before a cryptic smile replaces her usual expression.

"On second thoughts Neru," she babbles distractedly, "do you mind if we postpone this for another time. I'm really sorry, but I just remembered an important appointment I had."

"Oh but-"

She doesn't know why she tries to get Miku to stay but the words never come out and the other girl is already halfway out the door anyway. Before she leaves, Miku tosses her head back and waves cheerily.

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, soon." If Neru didn't know any better, she'd have thought she'd seen Miku smirk but her enigmatic expression had long since disappeared behind closed doors and a curtain of teal hair.

Somewhere behind her, the kettle whistles.

_[if anyone asks, she spent the entire day cleaning her apartment and not bonding with a teal haired angel]_

They run into each other again.

The thing is, the more she tries to look like she doesn't care, the more obvious it is. At the moment, she is sitting cross legged at an outdoor table in that lovely Italian cafe around the corner, sipping an espresso and generally trying to appear nonchalant. Her case isn't really helped by her frequent sipping, constant glancing at her watch and the impatient manner in which she taps her feet.

Her badly feigned indifference veils high strung tension as she awaits Miku. It makes sense, therefore, that she jumps in shock when a vaguely familiar voice snaps her from her stress induced trance.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

She might've cursed at the intruder then, but then she gets a proper look at him and déjà vu comes over her. "You- I- What the hell are you doing here?"

"Coincidence?" Mikuo takes the seat opposite, waving the waitress over and ordering two plates of tiramisu. "You're not going to tell me to go away?"

"Not if you're paying."

That invokes laughter from him and she kicks his shin from under the table. It shuts him up, the bell like sound of his mirth giving way to awkward silence.

Miku never turns up. This fact remains painfully lodged in the back of her mind, even while she's scooping tiramisu into her mouth and staring at everything apart from the teal haired distraction in front of her.

It's interesting actually. Whenever Mikuo turns his head, his hair catches the light and he almost looks like Miku-

She shoots out of her seat. "Augh!"

Instantly, Mikuo is up with a tissue to wipe away the splatter of dessert that adorns the front of her shirt. She shies away from his touch, glaring at him accusingly.

"What's wrong?" He dares to ask, still holding out the tissue as if its presence will placate Neru's newfound irritation. "At least let me clean your-"

"Hell no!" She shrieks, flapping her arms about in a panicked frenzy. "That's a private area, you idiot!"

Mikuo shrinks back to an awkward posture, seemingly unsure of what to do. "Sorry, ah...what's wrong?"

"You, you're Miku!" She splutters, flapping her arms around in a panicked frenzy. "You look like her, you sound like her- I let you in my _apartment_!"

He lets her rabbit on for a good ten seconds or so before letting a peal of laughter loose. She stops her frenetic babbles, stunned by his reaction.

"Sorry," he laughs, "I'm sorry."

"I don't see what's so funny," she mutters hotly, snatching the tissues from his hand and attempting to curb the spreading brown patch on her shirt.

"Miku," he says as if the word contains the meaning of life. "And me. We're siblings."

_[and she wonders why she has no friends] _

No one has spoken for at least ten minutes.

It's unnerving really, she can't feel comfortable without any noise. Random anecdotes and jokes are poised on the tip of her tongue just waiting to be set free but she can't afford to embarrass herself. Not in front of Len.

Len, in contrast, looks at ease in the silence as he eats. The discordant sound of his fork pushing into the chicken and clanging against the plate beneath rings in her ears, a sure fire sign of an oncoming headache. Desperate, she opens her mouth to deliver some awkward story about her and Nero going camping in the rain when the phone rescues her from the inevitable humiliation.

She abandons her chicken and rummages around the counter in search of the elusive phone. A sigh escapes her; it's only been a week and her counter has already accumulated a mass of junk, a jungle of unpaid bills and notes that will never be found again. Finally, she spies a telltale glow from under a burger coupon and checks the caller ID.

"You're not picking it up?" Len asks as she sits back down at the table. "It could be important."

"It's not. Just...an acquaintance."

He seems even more confused. "But you always answer your phone. Even if only to scream insults at the telemarketers."

The phone blares out again. "I do not! And I'm not answering it."

Len stands up and checks the screen. "Who's Mikuo?"

"No one," she blurts out quickly, gesturing for him to put the phone down. "Eat."

"Is it someone you like?" He asks teasingly, hovering a tantalising finger over the answer button. "Why don't you want to talk to him?"

She jumps up, swiping at the air and feeling hope drain with every near miss. Her anxiety runs far deeper than just embarrassment. Len is her everything, he shouldn't be joking about something like this, shouldn't be acting like it's okay for her to like someone else.

Len seems to realise that her attempts to snatch the phone have become flimsy and he puts it down, declining the call. "Sorry. Do you want me to put your phone on silent?"

She shakes her head, tries to restrain the heat that is seeping into her cheeks. "J-just eat."

No, this isn't Len's fault. She knows, has known for forever, that Len doesn't return her feelings and probably never will. Why would he when there are girls like Miku hanging around all the time?

Stabbing at her chicken has got to be better than thinking about that.

_[he's still holding an overdue notice for her heart] _

"I thought you knew he was my brother," Miku says sheepishly the next time they meet. "I mean, we have the same surname."

"It's still your fault," Neru harrumphs even though it isn't really. "So you're paying."

"Eh? I'm sorry Neru!"

Neru tucks her handbag under her chair surreptitiously, eyeing the waiter with caution. She'd been on edge the entire bus ride, hoping that the waiters wouldn't recognise her as the blonde girl who'd stupidly left her bag out in the open.

One of said waiters swan by, because all waiters have to swan like they're otherworldly or something, and a particularly jarring shudder ripples through her body. He turns and begins heading towards them and she slowly sinks down into the cushion of the chair.

He only asks for their order and Miku pipes up cheerfully, requests a coffee for both of them. Neru doesn't say anything for fear of attracting attention to herself, not that her sunken shoulders and the sporadic flitting of her eyes isn't gaining her plenty of stares already.

It takes her a few moments to recover her composure and even then, there's a two second delay between then and when she realises Miku is laughing. At her. "And just what is so funny?"

"You look like a fish." Miku puckers her lips and sucks in her cheeks; if she didn't look so ridiculous, Neru might've had the room to be offended. "Anyway, I didn't know you were friends with my brother."

"We're not friends!" She splutters, "I've got one Hatsune on my hands, I don't need another."

The waiter brings them their coffee and Miku blows on the top of the cup carefully. "Aw but my brother really likes you! He's always talking about how cool you are."

She knows her cheeks are flaming right now. "I don't care what he says."

_[because his smile says everything and for the first time in months, Len's face isn't the last thing she sees before bed]_


End file.
